


The Second Best Flea Market in the Universe

by badxwolfxrising



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Fic and Chips, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Post-Episode: s02e04 The Girl in the Fireplace, Queer Themes, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 22:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21289409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badxwolfxrising/pseuds/badxwolfxrising
Summary: Some things you can find at the second best flea market in the universe: spare TARDIS parts, rose water lemonade, an angel and a demon in love and, most surprisingly, the truth.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 21
Kudos: 173





	The Second Best Flea Market in the Universe

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts and WIPs folder for much longer than I'd like to admit. I had wanted to publish it in time for World Pride in June originally, but that deadline came and went and it was still unfinished because I decided to go to NYC last minute for World Pride myself. I spent most of the rest of the summer in a funk approaching the first anniversary of a significant death in my family. Then I thought I'd finish it in time for Bi Visibility Day in September, but that deadline also came and went and I wasn't happy with what I had at that point. I worked on it diligently through the end of September into October and thought it'd be ready for National Coming Out Day but then my mom needed me to house sit for her out of state and that disrupted my plans. Tonight, after weeks of not looking at it, I finally opened this story again and after some additions and edits I can say that I'm mostly happy with how it turned out. I have always headcanoned the Doctor as bi or pan, probably because we tend to love the characters we see a bit of ourselves reflected in. Anyway, this story is unbeta'd, imperfect, but I hope not bad.

The second largest open air flea market in the universe was on a dismal, muggy dwarf planet known as Zezziro, which was famous for it’s unnecessarily hot summers, even more unnecessarily large mosquitoes, and the completely necessary rose and orange blossom water lemonades that they sold in giant flasks off of carts and stands throughout the market. Supposedly, the scent of the blossom waters were supposed to repel the mosquitoes by permeating into sweat but in that sort of dizzying heat any perceived effect could have just as well been psychosomatic. Normally, such a place would not be a choice demographic to visit for the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey, but the TARDIS’s random timeline generation inhibitor was on the fritz and landing mostly on Sunday afternoons, which was entirely unacceptable because nothing is ever open anywhere and everyone knows that Sundays are boring. The Doctor just needed a few parts to fix the problem and a few hours off of the TARDIS, outside the aura of awkwardness that had been permeating since France. He would’ve gone to the largest flea market in the universe if he’d had his choice, but that was located on Quan-Yin and he suspected the royal family probably hadn’t yet forgiven him for that one incident involving the Queen’s petticoats, a local rodent he’d mistaken for a vicious foreign predator, and a water gun that apparently hadn’t actually been a water gun or even full of water at all because it had actually been full of...actually, that’s probably on a need-to-know basis and honestly, you probably don’t want to. No, for everyone’s safety and sanity, Zezziro was the best bet, bird-sized mosquitoes and sweltering temperatures aside. 

For Rose Tyler, it was also a perfect opportunity to take a brand new turquoise blue sundress and matching strappy sandals out for a spin and to look so gorgeous in them that one might have thought it was almost a passive-aggressive reminder to her male companions that French aristocrats and courtesans weren’t the only ones with heaving bosoms and shapely legs. In this case, it was really because of the high temperatures, or at least that was what Rose had told herself when picking that particular outfit for their trip to the flea market as opposed to something a little more modest and utilitarian. No one knew better than she how quickly a pit stop for parts with the jeopardy friendly Doctor could turn into running for your life.

For the Doctor and Mickey, it was the perfect opportunity to surreptitiously admire Rose’s tanned and shapely legs in said sandals and sundress. Though Mickey and the Doctor rarely agreed on anything, if they had consulted on the topic of Rose’s sun kissed legs, both men would have agreed that they were like little splinters in their racing hearts. When it came to their feelings about Rose, they actually had quite a bit more in common than either of them would ever comfortably admit out loud, not without near lethal quantities of hyper vodka being involved. The pining was very much palpable, as were the inevitable short tempers that tended to arise when one was crammed in a crowded space with no air conditioning and the ripe smell of unwashed bodies, foreign perfumes, and a myriad of other discordant aromas.

“Oh cool!” Mickey exclaimed in awe, stopping in front of a stall with an impressive display of primitive weapons.

The Doctor looked up from the bin of reclaimed temporal shift drives he was picking through to see what had caught the other man’s fancy and immediately frowned. “Absolutely not. Mickey, put it down before the proprietor sees you handling it or you take someone’s eye out. Probably your own, knowing your luck.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Mickey wheedled, sounding like a petulant child denied a sweet in a candy store. “You never let me do anything fun and you have to admit, this is bloody cool.”

“If by never letting you do anything fun you mean I frequently prevent you from maiming or killing yourself in a a spectacularly stupid fashion then yes, you’re right, I never let you do anything fun,” the Doctor said dryly, rolling his eyes. “Now put it back. Besides, I’m sure we can’t afford it anyway, thing like that has to be at least ten-thousand credits, probably more.”

“Sorry...is that a flaming sword?” Rose asked, coming up from behind them with a well-timed tray of lemonades, which she distributed amongst the three of them. “How’s it do that?”

The Doctor sighed and pressed his fingers against his temples, reminding himself internally to be patient and nurture their curiosity rather than chastise them for it. In his experience, his adult human companions were almost on par with toddlers in terms of their curiosity towards things they had no business playing with but he was unfortunately outnumbered on this one because it was _ a flaming bloody sword _ and of course they were intrigued because hello, _ flaming bloody sword _. “Eh, I don’t know, it’s probably some kind of visual effect. Give it here and I’ll take a look,” he said wearily, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and glancing around to make sure the owner of said sword wasn’t there to see them handling the merchandise. Who leaves a flaming sword unattended anyway? Even to him that seemed a bit irresponsible, which was saying something when you consider the source material that particular opinion was coming from had once abandoned an entire planet after being elected President because he was bored and fancied a holiday.

“It looks like it’s got some sort of writing on it,” Rose said, peering curiously over his shoulder as he examined it. The close quarters of the flea market required a certain proximity as she peered over his shoulders, breasts pressed against his back. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and in spite of the heat, her nipples were hard. The Doctor swallowed the dry and sudden lump of lead that had arisen in the back of his throat with a gulp of blessedly cool rose water lemonade, and he certainly was too old and cynical to be wondering if the universe was trying to make a pointed metaphor at him again. 

“It’s writing,” he confirmed, his brow furrowing as he turned the piece over in his hands. The base of the sword was engraved in what appeared to be some ancient runic language, so old that even the TARDIS wasn’t properly translating it. Weirder still, the engraving was incredibly smooth and sharp, looking almost brand new against the time-tarnished metal of the hilt, which was much sharper than it appeared when he ran his fingers along the edge and very nearly nicked himself. If the sword was really as old as the signs indicated, the engraving should’ve probably worn off at least a little bit but it still appeared almost brand new. Now the Doctor was properly intrigued and when he got properly intrigued he became like a dog with a bone. The runes seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it until he ran his finger over it. The writing was Enochian, and although he couldn’t quite read it, the sword had enough of a psychic impression that he was able to fill in the gaps. He said it out loud, drawing the syllables out slowly and cautiously, more like a question than a statement of fact. “Property of...the Principality Aziraphale.”

“The Principality Aziraphale? Isn’t a principality like a country or something? Is this from some alien country?” Mickey asked excitedly.

“Yes, yes, no,” the Doctor huffed hurriedly. “Look, I don’t have time to answer a million inane questions, we need to get to the bookseller’s,” he said, shoving the sword absentmindedly into his pocket and striding back down the direction they’d came earlier. It didn’t occur to him how odd of a thing this was to do until he saw the expressions on Rose and Mickey’s faces. “What?”

“You just stole that sword,” Rose admonished with the gentle amusement of one who was accustomed to the Doctor’s shenanigans. 

The Doctor liked to make a big show of never traveling with money, preferring instead to barter and trade or conveniently sonic a cash and credit machine wherever he landed. These activities were almost always referred to as “borrowing”, although the items in question rarely, if ever, made it back to their original owners. The Doctor was not amused when Mickey had started referring to him as the Space Cowboy after one such incident where he had ‘borrowed’ a horse from Butch Cassidy to chase after another alien. That horse was presently living in one of the TARDIS gardens under the assumed name of Chester and was very fond of Granny Smith apples. 

“Nevermind the five finger discount Rose, he just jammed _ a flaming bloody sword _ into his pocket and walked off like it was nothing!” Mickey crowed in disbelief. “How’d you do that?”

The Doctor shrugged and tugged on his pockets. “Tailored by Time Lords. They’re bigger on the inside. And I didn’t steal the sword, I’m just...borrowing it.”

“Borrowing it?” Rose repeated, lips curved into a dubious smirk.

“Now I finally get why you’re always wanking on about how impressive he is,” Mickey commented to Rose, who shot him a reprovingly look in response. He plowed on, undeterred. “Jamming a whole flaming sword into your pocket, that’s like...Houdini-level.”

“Who do you think taught Houdini?” the Doctor asked indignantly. He resisted the impulse to make a crack about where Mickey ought to be shoving flaming swords, which suggested perhaps maybe he had learned a thing or two about the human concept of tact and manners over the years. Mickey was too easy a target anyway, there was no honor in tearing him down and though the Doctor was reluctant to admit it, Mickey was clever in his own right, especially with computers, and at times had a child-like wonder that he was sure would be endearing coming from anyone other than Rose’s kinda sorta ex-boyfriend. Time Lords were a notoriously jealous and petty race, in spite of their claims to have elevated themselves above baser emotions and the Doctor had his own moments. The fact that he hadn’t yet imprisoned Mickey in a giant Rubik’s cube or something else equally ridiculous was a minor point of pride. A lesser man or Time Lord would’ve tossed him out of an airlock by now, probably.

This time, Rose was the one rolling her eyes. “And so humble, too. Next you’re gonna tell me Casanova got all his moves from you.”

The Doctor shrugged, a catlike grin on his face. “Not _ all _ of them,” he said nonchalantly, offering Rose his hand while Mickey mimed vomiting in the background. “Just most of them.”

“I’ll take that as my hint to scarper off elsewhere. You two find the bookseller, I’m going to go play with dangerous weapons somewhere there ain’t a judgey Time Lord about,” he declared, walking off before either Rose or the Doctor could levy a protest.

“Don’t wander too far!” the Doctor called after him, flapping a hand dismissively. “He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine. Probably. Been at least twenty years since a grown man was carried off by one of the mosquitoes. Granted he was quite a big larger than Mickey...but eh, it’ll still probably be fine.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “What a heartwarming display of concern for one of your charges. You’re rather bad at playing the responsible adult, you know that? Mickey’s not thick, he probably just didn’t want to play the third wheel to us yet again. He’s new to all this, it’s hard for him, and he just can’t compete with your theatrics because all we usually did together was go down the pub and eat chips or watch telly. You and I have all those shared experiences of the amazing things we did together and he just doesn’t know how to relate. Probably doesn’t help that you can be sorta mean to him when he tries to.”

“And yet every time I offer to take him home, he declines,” the Doctor said, wagging a finger for emphasis. Still, he felt an uncomfortable twinge in his hearts that might’ve been the gnawing beginnings of guilt and had to resist the urge to tell Rose that he had just come out here to have a good time and was honestly feeling so attacked right now.

Rose shrugged. “Still...you could try to be a little nicer to him. I know you don’t hate him, or he wouldn’t still be traveling with us. Small price to pay to see the universe, I suppose. I get it. He was always a bit like a puppy dog following me around. But I can’t just stand by and let you keep talking to him like you do...it’s starting to make me feel bad and if he won’t stand up for himself then I have to. Perhaps he thinks you might decide to abandon us both and he’s looking out for me, just in case. But either way, if you aren’t gonna be nicer to him then you should just take him home and stop torturing all three of us.”

Suddenly, it seemed much warmer in the flea market and he was regretting not leaving his blazer back on the TARDIS. Instead, he loosened his tie, unbuttoned his collar, and meditated on the impracticality of wearing one very slimming and flattering bespoke suit to conduct the majority of his capers in. Maybe it wouldn’t cause him to regenerate if he wore a tshirt and shorts or other seasonally appropriate attire out into public once in awhile. _ Maybe _. Did Earth girls think blokes in tshirts and dungarees were sexy? “I’d never abandon you, Rose. Not intentionally, anyway,” the Doctor said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Wouldn’t you, though?” she asked, her tone frosty enough to quench the heat. She wiped what might have been sweat or tears off of her cheeks with the back of her wrist and continued walking at an increasingly irritated, brisk pace. “What would’ve happened to Mickey and me if you’d never come back from France? You just blundered in there like gangbusters at the last minute and stranded us. It’s not like we could’ve just called space 999 from my mobile if you didn’t manage to make it back and the only reason you did is because Madame du Pompadour was just as sentimental as she was clever and she kept that old fireplace. If she hadn’t…”

The Doctor decided that right then probably wasn’t the time to tell Rose she could’ve in fact done exactly that, called the space version of 999 or AAA and gotten an emergency lift. She hadn’t known that at the time and even if she had, they would’ve only been able to bring her and Mickey somewhere safe, not back to their own timelines on their Earth. Instead, he said what he thought she probably wanted and needed to hear, which conveniently happened to be mostly the truth. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to help her, but certainly not at your expense. Sometimes I just...I act impulsively. My brain moves so fast, sometimes I’m already doing the thing before I’ve even finished properly planning how the thing will work. The absolute last thing in the world I’d ever want to do is hurt you, you must know that. Still, it seems that I have done so without even meaning to and for that, I’m truly sorry. Forgive me?”

Rose crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at her sandals. “Sarah Jane tried to warn me about you. Maybe I should’ve listened. I just...what are we, Doctor? What am I, to you? A friend? A companion? Just another silly little human to help you pass the time until you get bored with me, decide to run off with someone more educated and exciting, and accidentally drop me in Manchester? Because I’m tired of holding hands, cuddling, doing all that boyfriend-girlfriend stuff with you and wondering if it’s ever gonna lead anywhere. It’s not fair. I feel like you want emotional intimacy from me but you never wanna be straightforward about how you feel, either. Am I just like a pet to you?”

The question stung like a thousand little cuts. Cuts he knew he probably deserved, but that still hurt nonetheless. The Doctor was torn, between answering Rose truthfully and keeping up the haphazard facade he had spent a very long time crafting after the Time War to make sure no one ever got close enough again to wound him the way losing his wife, children, and entire species had. It was an evil sort of paradox, to be so terrified of the very sort of love you knew you desperately craved deep down inside. As articulate as he was and as eloquent as he could be, his own feelings were something he had never really learned the language of. “Rose...I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry I hurt you. But don’t be like everyone else and mistake me for a god or a lonely angel. I’m not one, okay? I’m not perfect, I do make mistakes, mistakes I end up regretting and you have to believe me when I tell you that what happened in France is one of them. Because not only could I not save her from a stupid wasting illness, but I bloody well managed to traumatize you in the process. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Rose shook her head and chuckled bitterly. “You are such a bloke. All your lordly Time Lord talk about how much more evolved your species is and you’re still just like every other human man when it comes to confronting his own feelings. I asked you pointed questions about whatever this relationship is and you won’t even do me the courtesy of answering them. What the hell? Of course you’re sorry now, you’re sorry because I’m angry at you and it makes you uncomfortable when other people have feelings about the shitty things you do to them!”

“Oh, for heaven and Hell’s sake, could you two kids just shag already and get it over with?” a bored voice said from behind them. “You’re arguing like an old married couple, you might as well get the make up sex benefit for it.”

Rose whipped her head around, eyes narrowed in fury. “Excuse me?”

“Well now you’ve gone and done it,” the Doctor muttered, turning to look at the man who had just sealed his own fate.

The red-headed demon took off his sunglasses to reveal a pair of snake-like yellow eyes, and tapped the arm of the glasses against his teeth in a way that was somehow both absent-minded and lascivious. His gaze travelled up and down the Doctor and Rose as though he were appraising an especially interesting piece of rare demonic art or a particularly toothsome delicacy. “Aziraphale,” he sighed, squeezing the angel’s arm above his elbow. “Do you know what the French term for a foursome is?”

Aziraphale frowned, caught off guard, his expression betraying that he was wondering if this was some sort of trick question. “I don’t think so, no. At least not in the way I believe you’re asking it, my dear. Which is, to say, inappropriately.”

The demon slid his glasses back on with the smooth expertise that comes with centuries of practice and the sort of devilish grin you can only learn from Lucifer himself. He leaned closer to the angel and whispered just loud enough to be overheard. “Would you like to find out?”

Rose and Aziraphale both flushed a charming and near identical shade of rosy pink. The Doctor, in typical fashion, remained absurdly and annoyingly stoic, with only the slightest twitch of his hair betraying what he was thinking. “_ Partie carrée _ is the term you’re looking for, I believe. And while I’m flattered-you’re obviously a gentleman of discerning taste, I’m afraid I have to decline. Rose and I aren’t interested.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rose muttered under her breath, eyeing up demon in black appreciatively. “What?” she said sharply, catching the irritated look the Doctor gave her, like he’d forgotten she had eyes and a libido and hadn’t noticed the oddly striking resemblance between himself and the other man.

“Relax darlings, I was just teasing. Quite worth the look on all of your faces, though,” Crowley chuckled. “Since your _ friend _ here has declined to do the honors, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Crowley, this is Aziraphale. Pleasure to meet you,” he said, kissing Rose’s hand.

The flush on her face deepened. “I’m Rose, this is the Doctor,” she stammered. Recognition bloomed in her eyes as Crowley’s introduction sank in. “Aziraphale. Like on the-”

“Like on the sword,” the Doctor finished for her, withdrawing the item from his pocket.

The angel’s eyes lit up. “My sword! Where on Earth did you find it?” he asked, taking it gingerly from the Doctor. “Thought I’d never see this thing again...Lord knows they weren’t too happy upstairs when they found out I’d los...er, misplaced it again, after that whole apocalypse kerfuffle. I owe you a great deal of thanks. Anytime you need a rare book, you look me up.”

Crowley whispered conspiratorially behind his hand to the Doctor and Rose. “It wasn’t lost. He gave it away, bless.”

The Doctor cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I used to come visit your shop in SoHo actually, back in the day. I met you two in Rome ages ago, but you probably wouldn’t remember me, I had much curlier hair back then,” he said, tugging on his ear surreptitiously. “Didn’t find it on Earth though, it was right here in the flea market. One of the weapons dealers had it out on a table. Luckily, they weren’t looking when I snatched it. I figured by the engraving it could only belong to you. Odd luck that it ended up in this flea market, of all places. Whoever picked it up obviously was unfamiliar with Enochian. Also lucky it was us who found it just sitting out. Lots of luck actually, a bit weird now that I think about it. Very convenient, almost like someone wanted us to meet again.”

“Who leaves a flaming sword unattended?” Crowley scoffed. “You might as well put out a sign that says ‘Please Steal Me’ if you’re gonna do all that.”

“Right? Thank you,” the Doctor said, giving Rose a meaningful look. “I wasn’t stealing, just returning stolen property to its rightful owner.”

“Again, it wasn’t technically stolen. Willingly given away,” Crowley helpfully interjected.

Aziraphale frowned. “Do you have to say it like that? Makes me sound..oh, I don’t know. Irresponsible, somehow.”

“On the contrary, it makes you sound like a rebel. Defying God the Almighty to give a sword to a pregnant woman and her husband right after they got kicked out of Eden? And then fibbing about what happened to the sword to an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent being? That takes stones,” Crowley said with admiration. “I think I fell in love with you a little bit that day. Who else would look God in the face and lie to Her?”

Aziraphale blushed. “Stop it Crowley, you’re embarrassing me.”

The Doctor remained passively unimpressed, but Rose’s mouth gaped in awe and confusion. “Sorry...are you telling me you two are angels? Like from the Bible?”

“You’re half right,” the Doctor said in a perfect deadpan. “One of them’s an angel, the other is a demon. Bet you can probably connect the dots and figure out who is who, you’re a clever girl.”

“I think a more interesting philosophical question is whether a fallen angel, also known as a ‘demon’, is still technically an angel or not?” Crowley posited, using air quotes for emphasis. He smirked, and reached out to pat the Doctor on the cheek. “I do remember you, by the way. Hard to forget really. Nice face you’ve got now. Where’d you get it?”

The Doctor pursed his lips and grabbed Crowley’s wrist, directing his hand away from his face. “Don’t,” he warned, in the soft and dangerous tone usually reserved for enemies and adversaries.

“It’s all semantics though now, isn’t it? We’re quite a bit outside Heaven or Hell’s jurisdiction here. The theological history of Zezziro doesn’t even mention an intelligent creator, nor celestial entities. You could be an angel or a demon and no one here would be the wiser,” Aziraphale prattled on obliviously, sounding very much like an adorably stuffy philosophy professor.

“Well I suppose Hell’s a bit cooler this time of year but I still rather prefer it here, where no one but you and this guy know who I am,” Crowley replied, gesturing vaguely at the Doctor.

Rose screwed up her face, contemplating all the information that had just been dumped on her in the last five minutes, amongst it the fact that God actually existed and was apparently female. Having traveled with the Doctor as long as she had and seen what she’d seen, the existence of God wasn’t actually all that shocking, she was just confused as to how the Doctor happened to know both an angel and a demon, the latter who just so happened to look like his chaotic rockstar doppelganger that he had weirdly sexual tension with. “So how do you all know each other again?”

“It’s a long story,” the three men answered in unison.

“Ah,” Rose said, nodding. “Thanks for clearing that all up then.”

Crowley slid his sunglasses back off and leaned against the pillar behind him. “When in Rome, Doc. When in Rome.”

The Doctor plastered an over exaggerated smile on his face to hide his discomfort and grabbed Rose’s hand. “Right then gentlemen, a pleasure as always. We’ll be going now, gotta find that part I came here to look for. Say goodbye, Rose.”

“Uh, goodbye..?” Rose repeated with a perplexed little wave of her free hand as the Doctor strode away as fast as his legs would take him.

Once they were out of earshot, Aziraphale turned to Crowley. “Was that who I think it was?”

Crowley snickered, grabbed the recently returned sword, and gave it an artful twirl. “_ The Doctor? _ Of course it was. With a different face, but it was definitely him. I’d recognize that cocky swagger from a mile away, I practically patented it. Didn’t you think he seemed a bit familiar? Remind you of anyone you know?” Crowley asked, pinching his own cheeks.

Aziraphale grabbed the sword back from Crowley. “Please be careful with my flaming sword, okay? I only just got it back. But if you’re inferring did I think he looked like you, then no. Totally different hair and eyes, not even the same color, and you’re much more handsome. Not that I was paying all that much attention, you know I only have eyes for you. They were a lovely, if strange couple though. I bet they’d have beautiful babies, if they could stop rowing long enough,” Aziraphale mused dreamily.

Crowley chuckled. “Oh, they’re totally going to shag. I’d bet money on it. Finally shag or finally die of unresolved sexual tension, but my money’s on the former. Bet you ten quid they do it before the day is over.”

“Angels don’t gamble, dear. And besides, I don’t think they accept the Queen’s currency here. You need to stop meddling in the love lives of humans,” Aziraphale chided gently, waiting with bated breath for Crowley to argue that The Doctor was not technically a human, merely humanoid.

“That’s it then? No commentary or reminiscing about what happened at the Bacchanalia that one year then? Really?” Crowley asked, bemused.

Aziraphale shrugged and poured them both a glass of lemonade from a cut crystal pitcher. The glasses had already begun to sweat like a pair of whores in church before he finished pouring. “We were both there, weren’t we? Besides, I don’t care much for kiss and tell, I’d rather reminisce about such things in...a more private place. Where there’s room for reenactment, if the mood strikes. And if I know you, the mood is always striking.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Crowley warned. “I don’t have half the scruples you do, I’ll clear off a table, throw you down, and do indecent things to you right here, right now.”

“Don’t tempt you? Well alright, if you hate it so much, I’ll just stop,” the angel replied, but he couldn’t keep a straight face and both of them burst into laughter, gasping as they clutched at each other’s shoulders.

“Stop tempting me! That’ll be the day,” Crowley wheezed. “I think maybe you enjoy it more than I do.”

Aziraphale’s eyes danced with amusement. “I suppose after all this time your prurient sense of humor has started to rub off on me a bit. Wasn’t it that nice American musician, Billy Joel, who said he’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints? It’s a bit like that, I think.”

“Prurient, hmmm? That’s an awfully fancy way of saying I’m funny but a bit of a slut,” Crowley said, grabbing a book off a precarious stack and flipping through it idly. “Not that I object though. It’s almost a compliment.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and sipped his lemonade. “Your words dear, not mine. I’d never dream of calling you a slut. Flirt perhaps, but not a slut. However, you do know what they say you ought to do with a shoe if it fits…”

“Lace it up, get a lemonade, and then go meddle in the affairs of humans and humanoid alien beings?” Crowley asked, flicking his tongue surreptitiously.

Aziraphale sighed, the sigh of the supposedly long suffering who has found they rather enjoy the torment once they’ve gotten accustomed to it. “Whatever floats your boat, husband.”

* * * * *

“Doctor! Slow down, you’re practically dragging me behind you,” Rose complained

The Doctor slowed his pace and relaxed his grip on her hand just slightly. “Sorry.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in a hurry to get away from those two. You obviously have some kind of history together, care to clue me in?” Rose asked him in the singsong voice of someone who’s already putting puzzle pieces together quite well on their own but wants the pleasure of hearing the other person say it out loud.

“Nothing to tell, really,” the Doctor shrugged. “I met them once at a Bacchanalia back in ancient Rome, we shared a couple bottles of wine and we chatted in the baths. It was a perfectly innocent and historically appropriate social interaction.”

“That’s it?” Rose repeated, the skepticism written plainly on her face. “The Bacchanalia, huh? Wasn’t that basically a drunken Roman orgy?”

The Doctor harrumphed and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “It was a festival dedicated to Bacchus, the god of wine and fertility. So yes, people were drinking and fornicating, if that’s what you’re getting at. That’s just another Tuesday as far as the Romans were concerned and I was there to investigate a supposed meteor that actually ended up being an Aehtaeck escape pod. It was just a coincidence that the festival was going on at the same time, it’s not like I ended up there on purpose. If I can manage to land in the correct decade and galactic quadrant most of the time, it’s a miracle.”

“Uh huh,” Rose said, a dubious expression on her face. “So I guess I just imagined whatever weird looks you and Crowley were exchanging back there. That’s cool.”

“Well considering there were no weird looks, yeah, you must have imagined it,” the Doctor replied tersely.

Rose’s face softened, along with her tone. “You should have just told me, Doctor. I would’ve understood. I’m sorry if I...if I misinterpreted things between you and I, or said or did anything that made you feel uncomfortable. Sometimes I forget that you’re literally an alien and your normal might not be the same as mine and if I did anything-”

The Doctor threw his hands up in exasperation. “For pity’s sake Rose, I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re getting at and _ you _ haven’t done anything wrong, this isn’t about you. I’m not...it’s just...oh bollocks. Look...remember when I told you Jack was just more flexible when it came to ‘dancing’?” he asked her, using air quotes for emphasis.

Rose nodded. “Yeah, course I do. Hard night to forget.”

“Well...so am I,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking off to the side, though he was secretly watching her reaction from the corner of his eye. “Flexible, i mean. About dancing...and other things.”

Rose’s face was impassive as she considered this tidbit of information. “So you’re like what...bisexual? Pansexual? Something else?”

The Doctor shrugged. “If you wanna use the human conventions to describe it, sure. My people didn’t really make a big deal about that sort of thing like humans do so I suppose I never put much thought into it. Sexual and gender identity have always been fluid for Time Lords but romantic relationships in my society were based on social class and convenience, not anything as frivolous as true love or attraction. Pursuing romantic relationships with so-called ‘lesser species’ like humans though was frowned upon though, which is I suppose why I’ve always had a hard time talking about that stuff. Residual guilt, as it were. I know it’s ridiculous, they’re all gone now and it’s just me...but sometimes I can’t shake it. I don’t know why the thought of letting down a bunch of stodgy old dead people is scarier than the idea of letting down someone I actually care about but well...here we are.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me then, you git? I won’t pry, but something obviously happened between you and that angel and demon and I don’t know what it was, but you don’t need to be ashamed for being bi or gay or anything else, there’s nothing wrong with it,” she said softly. Hesitantly, she reached for his hand and he let her take hold of it. “You’re still you no matter who you like to ‘dance’ with, and I think you’re pretty amazing, even if you can be a bit of a wanker sometimes.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Just a bit of a wanker then? That’s charitable of you, under the circumstances. But well...regardless of how I feel about it, human beings have always been a bit tetchy about the subject of sex and perceived homosexuality and I know you’re open minded but it’s just one of those hang ups that can be hard to get past even when you trust a person. I hope you can appreciate that my reasons for not telling you had nothing to do with my feelings about you and everything to do with my own neuroses. And as for the angel and the demon...I really wanted something to happen and I like to kid myself that it very nearly did, but they only have eyes for each other and made as much clear to me. I don’t get rejected often and when it’s something I really want...well, it stings a bit more.”

Rose’s face was solemn. “I had no idea. But for what it’s worth, knowing doesn’t change how I feel about you. Thanks for trusting me enough to tell me the truth, though...it means a lot that you’re finally able to open up to me.”

“I truly am sorry, about France and everything else,” he told her earnestly. “I care so much about you that the idea of saying just how much out loud terrifies me because it feels like everytime I get something good and I try to hold onto it, the universe tears it away from me. Believe me, nothing terrifies me more than the idea of losing you. I...I will sincerely try my best to do better about being honest with you, starting right now.”

“Can I be honest with you? Right now?” she asked, tilting her head up to look at him.

“I mean...you haven’t exactly been shy about telling me what’s on your mind thus far, but yes, please go ahead,” he said to humor her.

Rose’s fingers curled around the bottom of his tie, which she tugged lightly, forcing him to angle his head down towards her own. “Honestly? I was hoping...maybe you’d ask _ me _ to ‘dance’ one of these days,” she said shyly, biting her lower lip.

And then, the Doctor did something that was extremely out of character for himself: he kissed Rose Tyler without overthinking it. Time didn’t stop, although for a moment it quite felt a bit like it did, and both of them broke away from the other slightly breathless, for reasons that had little to do with the external temperature and maybe just a smidge to do with some helpful demonic nudging towards something that was always inevitable. This kiss was nothing like the time he’d taken the time vortex out of her mind or when Cassandra had snogged him with Rose’s body; this was a wholly different experience that left him wanting for so much more. “I don’t know why I waited so long to do that,” he murmured, cupping her cheek with his palm and tilting her head so he could kiss her again.

Rose brushed the hair back from his forehead and smiled cheekily. “So you know how you were saying earlier Casanova got all his moves from you? Yeah...I’m not quite sure I believe that. Think it sounds like more Time Lord hot air. Think I might require a demonstration so I can validate these claims.”

The Doctor grinned and grabbed her hand. “Then make haste, Rose Tyler.”

The distance back to the TARDIS was just over half a mile and the speed with which they ran, you would’ve thought there were Autons after them.

And yes, in case you were wondering, they did remember to go back and get Mickey, several hours later.


End file.
